


If These Walls Could Talk

by mythras_fire



Series: Friday Night Chats Plot-Bunny Factory [7]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alex giggles, Fluff and Humor, Innuendo I think?, Kyle just can’t you guys, Kyle really just can’t, M/M, Michael is the cause of the giggles, POV Kyle Valenti, not really sure actually, soft boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 12:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18620626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythras_fire/pseuds/mythras_fire
Summary: “Oh my god, you’re such a n00b! Weren’t you paying any attention when I did it to you in high school?”Alex is laughing now. Kyle shakes his head. This really needs to stop. Why the hell is he still standing out here on Alex’s front porch like a moron with his hand raised to knock? He should go.“Yeah, well,” comes the rather pouty reply, “it was from a completely different angle— and you never let me— and you were kinda distracting, y’know?”He should really just GO.





	If These Walls Could Talk

**Author's Note:**

> This silly little thing was inspired by all of the amazing Mylex fics I’ve been reading around here lately. I suddenly felt the need to write a little bit of voyueristic fun from Kyle’s POV ^^.
> 
> Disclaimer: no bottles of acetone were harmed in the writing of this story. Also, all characters and pop-culture references belong to their respective creators.

Kyle Valenti prides himself on being prompt. It’s part of the Valenti Code. Pay respect to your patients, and your friends, by being on time. Their time is just as valuable as yours. If you can be five minutes early, even better. 

He’s always done a good job of it, too, until one fateful afternoon in October when he shows up five minutes early to Alex’s cabin, hand about to knock on the wooden door, and hears sounds emanating from inside the cabin that make him suddenly wish he were habitually late. 

“Guerin, stop that, it tickles!” Alex giggles.

Or a total slacker who doesn’t show up at all.

“Shut up, Alex, I’ve never done this before, gimme a break, will ya?” Michael whines.

Kyle’s hand is frozen in mid-air, and his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. What the fuck?

“Well, I can’t help it if you’re doing it wrong! You’re gonna get it everywhere but where it’s supposed to go!” More giggling. “And it still tickles. You need to grip it harder!”

Alex really needs to stop giggling. It _does_ things to his insides that he’s been trying not to pay too much attention to lately. 

“If I grip any harder, Private, I’m going to break something,” Kyle hears Michael grumble plaintively.

Private? Alex is an Airman in the Air Force, not the Army. Isn’t Guerin supposed to be some kind of genius?

“Oh my god, you’re such a n00b! Weren’t you paying any attention when I did it to you in high school?” 

Alex is laughing now. This really needs to stop. Why the hell is he still standing here on Alex’s front porch like a moron with his hand still raised? He should go.

“Yeah, well,” comes the rather pouty reply, “it was from a completely different angle— and you never let me— and you were kinda distracting, y’know?”

He should really just GO.

“Hello Pot, I’d like to introduce you to my good friend, Kettle. Kettle, Pot. Pot, Kettle.”

Kyle can practically feel the snark through the door. Hey, that door looks like a nice, solid place to just bang his head a few dozen times before he leaves...

“Yeah, yeah, I know, we both too fucking gorgeous for our own good, nobody here but our false modesty,” Michael says a touch over-dramatically if you ask Kyle, but you really shouldn’t because he’s not supposed to be here right now. “Now sit still, or I’m gonna need to start over and you know what happens when the acetone comes out...”

_Acetone?_

What kind of kinky shit are they up to with acetone?!

Kyle actually takes a few steps backward, a do-not-want grimace plastered across his face when the sudden ringing of his cell phone almost makes him fall right off the top step in shock and embarrassment, like he’s the one being caught red-handed, not the two kinky bastards inside the cabin.

He fumbles for the phone and has every intention of hanging up on whoever it is until he sees the caller ID: Mom.

FML

He answers the phone just as he hears a loud moan leak through the wood and glass, followed by an excited, “Oh hell yeah, Cowboy! Then my toes next!”

His mother sighs loudly on the other side of the line. “Couldn’t you at least turn down the volume on the porn when your mother calls you? Really, Kyle.”

Kyle turns beet red. “What?! Wait, no, I’m not watching any _porn_ right now, Mom!”

Kyle realizes a second too late where he still is and what he just screeched into his phone in a nervous panic.

“Oh shit! That’s Kyle. It’s later than I thought. See!” _THWACK_ “You’re distracting, too.”

“Ow! Did he just say something about porn to his mother?” Great, now Guerin is giggling.

Kyle doesn’t have time to make a break for his car or listen to the dressing-down he is indubitably getting from his mom right now because the front door of the cabin has just swung open of its own accord on rusty hinges and he turns around like the glutton for punishment that he is, fully expecting to see Michael and Alex _inflagrante delicto_ doing unspeakable things with a bottle of nail polish remover.

His thinks maybe his brain has short-circuited from the _disappointment_ he feels when he peers into the cabin to see Michael and Alex...

Sitting knee to knee Indian style on the couch, barefoot but fully clothed, well, with the exception of Michael’s perennially half-unbuttoned shirt, of course.

A bottle of acetone tucked in between Alex’s legs.

A bottle of black nail polish balanced precariously on Michael’s knee, one hand gripping the brush tip while the other hand holds one of Alex’s pinky fingers still.

Kyle interrupts his mother’s lecture on watching porn at 3 o’clock in the afternoon to mutter, “Gotta go, Mom, talk to you soon, kthxbai,” and hangs up. He’s pretty sure he’ll be in the running for Best Impression of a Slack-jawed Idiot as he just stares dumbly at his newly rekindled best friend and his alien boyfriend.

“Dr. Livingston, I presume?” Michael quips, ever the Chandler Bing wannabe. 

“I, uh, I was just uh,” he gesticulates with both hands, nearly tossing his phone down the steps as he fails at words in general to explain his plight. He’s glad it’s still warm outside because his cheeks feel a little too warm. It could also have something to do with the way Alex is looking at him all contemplatively. 

“Want me to do you, too?” He hears Michael ask. At least, he thinks that’s what he says. He’s not exactly trusting his brain right now.

He clears his throat before stammering back, “D-do me?”

Alex waves him inside with the hand not being painted; it’s sporting shiny black nails that look glossy and wet.

Michael has already gone back to the task at hand and says flippantly over his shoulder, “Yeah, unless you’re too manly for us, Valenti.”

Alex is still giving Kyle a look he’s never seen before. 

Kyle manages to drag his eyes away from Alex long enough to glance at Michael and catches the smirk hanging out on Michael’s stupid-hot face before he puts his lips together and carefully blows on Alex’s pinky finger to dry the nail polish he’s just applied as if the finger he’s holding were something precious. 

Kyle swallows past the sudden lump in his throat, looks back at Alex, and realizes that it is.

He also recognizes a challenge when he hears one, and the shy invitation in Alex’s eyes emboldens him to clear a spot on the coffee table in front of the couch, toe his shoes off, and settle down with his own legs crossed.

He sticks out a hand, his own smirk firmly in place to meet Michael’s soft hazel eyes when they look up from the proffered hand, “Okay, I’m next, but you better do a good job the first time, Guerin; I don’t even want to know what kind of shenanigans you two get up to with that bottle of acetone,” he tilts his head towards Alex’s lap.

The grin Michael levels at him takes Kyle’s breath away. 

But what really makes him glad he’s already sitting down is what Alex says in response; the first words he’s spoken since Kyle entered the cabin. 

“Oh, I think you do, Kyle.”

Kyle looks over at Alex, who gives him a knowing wink with those beautiful brown eyes, and his pants are suddenly painfully tight. 

“Just you wait and see.”


End file.
